


Uitio Contactis

by KittenKong



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, But she's actually not that important so, Discrimination, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Familial Abuse, I'm sure I'm missing something, Ilvermorny, Imprisonment, Non-Graphic Violence, OC, Please tell me I'm so bad at tags, Running away from home, Simmons family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 13:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13459530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKong/pseuds/KittenKong
Summary: Dick Simmons was, in the eyes of his family, unremarkable. He earned good grades and studied hard, but that was no cause for celebration. That wasexpectation.But then he turned sixteen, and suddenly, he wasn’t unremarkable. He was disgusting.





	Uitio Contactis

**Author's Note:**

> I... I do not know what possessed me to write this??? I don't know where this came from???   
> I've never written for these fandoms before. Ever. So here's so hoping this turned out... okay.

When Dick Simmons was sixteen years old, in his second last year of schooling, he became a disappointment to his family.

He was never the perfect son, not to his family. Yes, he studied hard and earned good grades, but that was no cause for celebration. That was expectation. He excelled at school, didn’t allow himself to be distracted from his peers, flying through school with plenty of sleepless nights and extra credit assignments, neatly penned and free from mistakes.

But he was never good enough for his family. He was unremarkable. He could fly okay, but he didn’t play Quadpot, he strived for leadership but never won out against the more social and open of his peers, he could hand in a perfect assignment, but could not speak openly in class without his anxiety flaring and it becoming hard to breathe.

Unremarkable.

But then he turned sixteen, and he was attacked by Freyja Lovett.

And suddenly, he wasn’t unremarkable. He was disgusting.

* * *

Sixth year at Ilvermorny was hard enough as a normal student, but for Dick, it was a nightmare. There were more and more assignments to hand in, homework to complete, the pressure of non-verbal wand work, and apparition classes being offered (compulsory, of course, in the eyes of his family.)  


But he had his own set of problems this year. He was going to have problems for the rest of his life.

He was lucky he was even able to attend school, he supposed. It had taken a lot of pushing from his family (for their sakes, of course, not his. Nobody could know of their son’s _affliction._ ) They’d contended that he was such an _excellent_ student, and therefore removing him would be detrimental to the school. He was grateful for both the headmistress’s kindness (she’d taken a liking to him early on) and also her greed.

Freyja Lovett had ruined _everything_. She’d ruined his life. She was not careful enough and now _he_ was suffering the price. He hated that he could not completely blame her, however, because he understood. He understood how your brain shut off, and you’d awake tired and sore, scratches up and down your arms and legs, bites from a creature that was you, but not, terrified and horrified and shaking from the pain. He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d realised what she’d done. A guilt like he’d never seen before, eyes brimming with tears, shouted apologies, and practically throwing herself at authorities, begging them to take her away.

He _really_ wished he could hate her – truly hate _her_ and not just hate her failure to stay put on the night of the full moon.

She’d killed three people that night. The Healers said he was lucky to have survived – the only survivor of her attack. Dick certainly didn’t feel lucky.

There was no cure for this.

Wolfsbane potion was a blessing, but one his family – although wealthy enough to afford it – was unwilling to provide. Nobody was so talented at potions to attempt such a thing in his family, and they certainly could not hire a skilled potioneer to brew it monthly, least questions began to be asked, and word got out that a Simmons had become a lycanthrope. It was better, they decided, to hide him in the cellar, and charm it shut on the night of the full moon. Dick thought it was less the questions, and more a sadistic punishment. He wouldn’t put it past his father.

He was provided with the potion at Ilvermorny. He’d always found school to feel more like home than his family house, but now it wasn’t just home – it was _sanity_. Being curled up in a private chamber once a month, fireplace roaring, and comfortable – in mind, if not in body – was so much better than chains cutting into his skin, and waking up surrounded by darkness, freezing and bleeding.

School was hard, but he kept his mind there, and although perhaps not at his usual standard at the beginning of the year, he quickly rose to his usual standings.

He didn’t go home for Christmas. This was not an unusual occurrence.

* * *

Dick spent his last two years of schooling working harder than he ever had before. His N.E.W.T’s, once important exams that would lead him into a well payed job at MACUSA, suddenly became bargaining chips for any job at all. He was not naïve enough to think his family would pay for his living (perhaps, if he were a better son… he doubted even that), and the population of employed werewolves was heartbreakingly small. So he worked until his fingers bled, healed them, and worked still. During the full moon, the taste of Wolfsbane potion still sticking to his lips, he read, using his nose and paw as gently as he could to read book after book.

He couldn’t afford to fail.

He kept up appearances, grooming more than he ever had. Werewolves, he knew, had a reputation for being scrappy. Nobody would hire him if he _looked_ like a werewolf. He kept tidy, he followed orders, he made sure he looked as put together as he could, because his records were tainted with a word that would cause most to throw him out of their establishment.

He convinced his potions professor to teach him how to make Wolfsbane potion. It was more difficult than it should have been.

He exited his final exam, shoulders stiff, mouth straight, seventeen years old and terrified, and hurried off to his dorm room, hoping to be alone.

He wouldn’t have Ilvermorny for much longer. He would be stuck at home, locked in a dark basement, and he doubted that, if he stayed unemployed, he’d be coming out of that basement very often at all.

He got seven ‘O’s, and cried into his pillow.

* * *

When Dick Simmons was eighteen, he magically extended a bag, took everything valuable from his bedroom, withdrew money from his families vault, and signed up to the UNSC.

He purchased enough potion supplies to last him years, pulled on his brand new uniform, dropped his extended bag into his new duffel, and left for basic training.

He read book after book, easily slipping back into his studious habits, about no-maj technology, praising every last moment of no-maj studies.

These people he was fighting with were No-Majes. They had no concept of lycanthropy outside of their fairy tales. They wouldn’t know that he was tainted.

Even better, his family wouldn’t be able to follow him this far.

* * *

He counted the days until the full-moon was meant to hit Earth in his first month of basic.

He brewed in the dead of night and drank in the morning, the taste of the potion sticking to his teeth.

He stuck out of the barracks and into the cave he had scouted out during his first patrol, sending out protection charm after protection charm, and he waited.

And waited.

And nothing happened.

And then nothing happened for a _very, very_ long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhhhh so... I hope you enjoyed this... thing. I seriously do not know where it come from at all, and I am very confused. I'm not sure where this story would go in relation to the series... but I figure because Simmons is so self-consious, I don't think he'd use magic very often at all, and therefore it wouldn't change very much at all.  
> Thank you very much for reading,
> 
> \- KK


End file.
